


moving in the fast lane with the wrong guy

by barelyprolific



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M, caught off guard Harry, demonic crushes, elevator kissing, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 02:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16777573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barelyprolific/pseuds/barelyprolific
Summary: The whitelighter is going to be a problem.





	moving in the fast lane with the wrong guy

“I noticed you've noticed the whitelighter.”

His father's voice is cool. Perhaps mildly amused. 

Hunter doesn't glance up from the campus map in front of him, marks a spot he's noticed the middle sister likes to go on her own. 

Of course he notices the whitelighter. 

Knowing a target means knowing any potential obstacles between oneself and one's target. Assassin 101, demonic or otherwise.

Of _course_ Hunter notices the whitelighter. 

Pale, stuffy, dresses like he's still a dapper English gentleman from the 1940s. The man is like a peacock; the outfits alone make him impossible to miss. Add the over-slick hair and pink lips too thin to be so noticed, and he's a flashing neon billboard for the BBC. 

Hunter's entire livelihood involves being observant. None of that is beyond the call of duty.

“He won't be a problem.”

Everything about him screams 'ruffle my feathers’ and honestly, Hunter enjoys ruffling. He also enjoys not being tortured, however. Ruffling isn't on the table.

“I hope that your little...perversions...aren't going to distract you from your duties.” Alastair Caine is a hard excuse for a man. Hunter keeps his eyes averted to avoid his father's gaze. It's a sign of weakness more suited to his little brother, and Hunter is disgusted with himself. “I don't need another failure, particularly not one caused by your corruption fetish. Parker being smitten with that… _Charmed One_ … is bad enough.” 

“I said he won't be a problem.” Hunter darts his gaze up to his father's face just in time to see a sharp smirk shimmer across his features. 

Hunter is pure demon. His skin still crawls.

“See that he isn't.”  
____

It happens in an elevator. Harry is on his way to lunch from a staff meeting--he is still, no matter his charges, a professor, after all. It is a position to be held in high regard and with the utmost responsibility. On his way down, the elevator empties and only one man steps on.

He's dressed sharply, in a crisp collared shirt, black tie, blond hair combed in that way men wore it now, casually devastating if a strand happens to fall into soulful eyes.

The man seems to pause for just a moment before he enters, dragging those soulful eyes over Harry's frame. Almost a tangible touch.

Harry clears his throat, checks his watch. Wishes he was wearing something other than a sweater vest. 

A silence falls over the elevator that is possibly only awkward in Harry's mind. The man stands next to him, a few inches between them. Politely keeping his space while making room for any onboarding passengers. It's courteous, accommodating.

The elevator has gotten hot. Smothering. Harry adjusts his collar, clears his throat again. “Lovely weather we’re having.” 

The man snorts. “It’s raining.”

“Ah, yes. Well. I come from England, so. Feels like home.”

Humming, the man turns slightly, leaning on his shoulder and studying Harry as though he were a specimen in Macy’s lab. “You don’t say,” he drawls.

“Pardon?”

The man's lips quirk. “I bet you have a fan club.”

Harry’s face feels hot. “Fan club?” Is he being flirted with? It’s been such a long time since Harry’s been in a position like this. 

The man hums again, stepping a little closer. “Cute, younger professor with an accent? There’s probably even a faculty sponsor.”

Once more, Harry clears his throat. “Are, ah-- _you_ faculty?”

The man chuckles, reaches out to tug on Harry’s tie, pull him closer. Close enough their hips bump. Harry’s hands flap uselessly for a moment before one catches his balance on the elevator wall. He stares, knowing his eyes are wide. 

“Oh, no. I just have business on campus. I’d probably drop by a meeting, though.” 

“A meeting.” 

“Of your fan club.”

“I don’t have a fan club.” Harry’s voice has gotten so low. Why is he talking so quietly? He licks his lips, and the man tracks the movement with his eyes. 

“Maybe I should start one, then.”

The elevator drops a little, then rises back up, settles solidly and dings. Just as the door slides open, the man jerks Harry forward by his tie and crushes their mouths together. Rough, slick, just this side of too much teeth, with fingers sliding in his hair and tugging. Harry’s knees buckle, and only the hand on the wall of the elevator keeps him up when the man steps back. 

“Earl Grey,” the man says as he walks way, sauntering out of the elevator without a glance back. It’s a small mercy that there’s no one waiting for it, as it takes Harry a moment to compose himself. He straightens his legs, his tie, tries to press down his hair.

Well. That was. 

_Unexpected._  
____

Hunter has never had a kiss burn his mouth before, but his lips are sizzling.

Hunter hadn't even been expecting to see him. Caught off guard, defenses lowered. Excuses could be made all day. The fact remains.

The whitelighter is going to be a problem.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean why not?


End file.
